I am Jill
by Allergic-to-Paradox
Summary: Jill is a young kitchen worker in the Giant's Castle, and likes it very much, thank you. So what will she do when young, handsome Jack appears and seems to be planning mischief? UPDATED! Now with chapter Six
1. Prologue: Jill

I am Jill

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Hi. My name is Jill. I work in the Giant's castle. (Don't listen when they tell you it's a palace, it's not. There's a big difference). I'm sort of a Jill-of-all-trades, if you will, but mostly I work in the Kitchens. It's not so bad. I mean, I could be working in the privies. (They get paid more than most, but they tend to die off sooner). But, anyway, back to what I was saying. There are five Jills working in the Castle, I'm 'Kitchen Jill' most of the time. My full name is Jillia Illan de Mountebanks. The only reason I have such an _outrageous _name is because I started out being _Lady _Jillia, but that's a different story. Now I'm just Jill.

See that man over there? The big one with the red hair? He's the head Cook. We mostly call him Cook, or Sir. Even the head of the Wait staff calls him 'Sir', 'cause you just don't mess with the big man holding the cleaver. His daughter is one of the other Jills, but she works inside with her husband. Cook mostly calls me Mountebanks, just to avoid confusion. Everyone here always does what he says, 'cause he's the boss. Not to mention the best cook in three kingdoms. Trust me on that, I know it for a fact.

There are plenty of good things about working in the kitchens. For one, you are never cold. _Never._ And you always have enough to eat. You don't see many who're too skinny here. Not to mention the muscles. Kneading a roll of bread dough as big as a two-year-old gets you a pretty good set of arms. If it weren't for the constant flour coating and waft of spices, we'd easily be mistaken for undermaids. See, there's the maids, who do the fancy work like dusting and polishing. They get to dress nicer too, 'cause they aren't hauling buckets of dirty water everywhere. Then there are the undermaids, who aren't as high up on the posh scale. You can always tell what kind of maid someone is by the size of their arms, see. 'Cause it's the undermaids who are hauling and scrubbing and hauling and beating carpets and the hundred and one other chores you get working in a Giant's Castle. Want a tip? Don't ever piss off an undermaid. They could beat you to a pulp without breaking a sweat.

So, us kitchen folks are a lot like that. Most of the time I do baking and cooking, but since I'm so special –yeah, you're supposed to laugh– I do other things too, like I said before. Some milking of cows, lots of egg-gathering. And let me tell you, a Giant eats a _lot _of eggs.

I suppose you'll want to know about the Giant, then? Well, despite all the stories you hear, he's not all that bad. Just big. I don't come quite up to his knee, but Cook does. (Told you he was big, Cook's a head taller than most men). Baron Michaelwhite Despora is his name. And of course, he's just fallen for a Lady, so there's been a lot more work for us in the kitchens of late, with his entertaining and all. Her name is Lady Brunia of Applegate.

Tom West, one of the Upstairs boys, says he's seen the Lady before, and can't see why the Baron is so enamored. He says 'she ain't too pretty an' she ain't so young an' she's hardly rich at all. I just don' unnerstand it, even for a Giant she's no looker.'

Well, Tom's always been a bit thick about this sort of thing. He just doesn't get that you don't have to be pretty or rich if you're in love.

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Well, that's it for the Intro...bit short, but tell me whatcha thought? --puppydog eyes, offers cookies--


	2. Chapter One: Jill and Tarts

Chapter One, Jill

Late morning in the kitchens was never the calmest time of day, and today was no exception. The Baron was entertaining again and five extra Giants means a lot more food.

At a bowl roughly the size of a hip-bath, three girls were kneading dough for the next day's bread. Sylvia, the youngest, scooped from the bowl her next loaf, which rivaled the weight of a large baby. "Just think!" she squealed in delight. "Ben Brewer asked me to go a mayin' with 'im on Sun's day! D'you suppose this means he fancies me?"

"Course it does, you silly girl!" snorted Bela. "He's fancied you since last May, it's about time he got to askin' you."

Jill giggled. "Yea, he's been _pining_ for you for ages now. We were hoping he'd ask you soon, afore we died from waiting."

Sylvia blushed prettily, ducking her chin in embarrassment. "Ah, don't be silly." Before she could say more, Cook burst into the kitchen.

"Tarts!" he shouted. "He wants bloomin' Tarts!" He shrugged out of his fine waistcoat and jacket and donned his apron. "Finn! The second-apple barrel in the cellar, I need a bushel straight off, peels and cores in the vinegar cask! Get one of the boys to help you." He watched dark-haired Finn run to the large cellar doors and disappear beyond with a basket. "Mountebanks! Crust for apple tarts, the finest you can do. This is for the Ladies!"

Jill quickly left her bread dough to fetch another huge bowl, setting it on a counter, where she was handed flour and a tub of lard. With a heavy sigh, she dug in. Giants eat a lot of tarts, she reflected, and mixing armfuls of lard and flour was not her favorite thing. Even if you managed not to get covered in flour, you always got splatted with the fat. Since she didn't have to pay attention at this stage of the crust, she amused herself by watching the fuss in the kitchen. Cook was ordering everyone about to make way for the unexpected fare and various undercooks were rushing about with pots of water or food from the ovens, dodging to keep from hitting each other. Occasionally someone would misstep and potato peelings or chicken bones would fly into the air. Then Cook would descend, roaring at the culprits to hurry and mind their feet before someone used them for a carpet, and the unfortunates would skitter away, pulling bits of peel from their hair and clothes.

Jill looked up and silently thanked the Giant's ingenuity, (or perhaps just their height), for building the ceilings so high. It kept the heat from the ovens and fireplaces from being overwhelming and the tall windows let the sunlight filter through the mayhem, giving the copper and silver pots and pans a ruddy glow.

"Argh!" she said, stifling a curse. Her hair had come loose from her head scarf and was now deviously digressing to block her eyes. This was all obviously part of it's cunning plan to be free for the day, because now that her hands were covered in floury lard, she couldn't fix it without leaving big lard-streaks across her face. "Oh, _spite!_" she grumbled.

"Trouble, Jill?" said a quiet voice behind her. Cook's youngest, Grett, leaned against a clean portion of counter next to her and smiled. "I see you've styled your hair differently today. Looks quite fetching, actually."

She smiled wryly. "You _could _help you know, instead of standing there, 'grinning like an idiot', as your father says."

He grinned, but helped tuck her hair back away. "Whatcha making?"

Jill sighed. "Tarts," she said, in a long-suffering sort of voice. "I thought you were singing upstairs?"

"I was. They were ready for a walk in the garden though, so I'm off until dinner." He shrugged. "I came to get food–"

"Grett! What are you doing, leaning about like an idiot, getting flour all about your clothes!"

Grett jumped away from the counter guiltily and gave Jill a quick smile before rushing to his father.

Jill chuckled and shook her head. She liked Grett best when he'd just come from performing, because it was only then he forgot to be shy. "Boys," she muttered.

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A/N-- Hokay, here's the First official chappie! Yay! It's not exactly thick on plot, but much more happens in the next chapter, trust me!

And, in the next chapter, we meet Jack, as well as some Giants, so pleeeze review... ;)


	3. Chapter Two: Jack

Chapter two, Jack

Jack was an adventuresome fellow. He liked a good dangerous undertaking as well as the next person, and specialized in getting himself out of all sorts of scrapes. Never would you find Jack caught between a rock and a hard place. Wearing his hat at a jaunty angle, he perambulated along the path, headed for the castle in the distance. He was rather fond of castles, he couldn't say exactly why. He loved finding work in new places, the excitement of meeting new people and seeing strange lands. This was the sixteenth kingdom he'd been to, and he was determined to see them all before he died. With an average of thirty baronies in each of the smaller kingdoms, he thought he was doing quite well, as a matter of fact. He'd reach the castle just before dinner, and perhaps beg a few favors from the cook. Nothing like castle food, there really just wasn't a comparison. He whistled cheerily and jingled the coins left in his moneybag. Things were definitely looking up.

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Jack wandered the halls of the castle, wondering which way the kitchen was. He had been let in through a side door, guards never minded letting such a polite, cheerful fellow in for a bite to eat. And anyway, the folks in these parts were so easy-going, it was no surprise the kingdom had such a booming tourist trade.

A delicious smell led him to an outside hall, where a large set of doors was standing, just waiting to be knocked upon. Just as he raised his fist, the door creaked open, and a woman leading a sobbing young man came out.

"Blast fool!" roared a voice from inside. "Stop your wailing!"

The young man flinched and whimpered, gingerly holding his slightly singed hand. The woman sighed and pulled his shoulder, leading him off toward the castle proper.

Inside the kitchen, Jack could hear the voice lamenting the timing of the lad's accident and the fact that the 'sop' had to take another one of the cooks to lead him home. Taking that as his cue, Jack burst into the kitchen. With a flourish, he bowed and doffed his cap to the roaring man. "Good Sir, prithee allow me to assist you in your time of need! I am Jack O' Field, and I wish to offer my service in your fine establishment."

The giant of a cook stopped mid-roar, studying this new development with a shrewd eye. The dapper young man in front of him seemed strong enough, and his easy way of standing spoke of years' labor. A bit theatrical, perhaps, but that was simple enough to deal with. "Very well. Over there and start peeling, any mischief and it'll be you in that soup, understood?" His eyes glittered as the foppish lad stood, and then bowed again.

"Most assuredly, good sir. You'll get nought but hard work from me!" he straightened and made with all due haste to the selected counter, where he startled a somewhat flustered girl making tarts. "Good morrow," he said cheerfully, as the Cook's attention was drawn elsewhere.

The girl looked him over, from feathered cap to pointed boots, and gave him a doubtful nod. "Good morrow," she said politely.

He took up a knife and started peeling the various vegetables piled next to him. "And might I be so bold as to enquire the lovely lady's name?" He flashed a smile at her.

"Jill," she said, turning her attention back to the crust of the pie-sized tart.

"Very pleased to meet you, Jill," Jack said, unruffled at her seeming disinterest. "My name is Jack O' Field. It's clearly more than chance that I ended up next to you, of course. It must have been meant to be." He beamed at her, a genuine light in his eyes.

Jill quirked an eyebrow at him. "I beg your pardon?"

"Jill and Jack, Jack and Jill!" he enthused. "It's perfect. I hope you don't mind me though, I tend towards over-exuberance, and I hope you can see past that."

She turned to him and narrowed her eyes, studying him for a moment. He had a handsome, honest face, with a clear intelligence in his eyes and, aside from the theatrics, impeccable manners.

He gave her a timid smile.

"I confess," she said slowly, "I don't see that our names have anything to do with it."

He brightened immediately. "Why, Jack and Jill, have you never heard those stories? For instance; 'Jack be nimble, Jill be quick, both jump over the candlestick'? Or perhaps 'Jack Sprat could eat no fat, Jill could eat no lean'? No? More's the pity. I love making up new ones, it's a favorite pastime of mine. Do you always work in the kitchens, Jill?"

"No."

"Ah, well, they say variety is the spice of life!" He whistled merrily as he peeled, seeming not to notice Jill's disinterest.

In spite of herself, Jill found this man rather charming, with his easy air and friendly smile. She took note of this, and with another look at his feathered cap, decided that she did _not_ like him. After all, she mused, it was like her Mother had always said, "People are charming because they need to be." And since this particular Jack didn't seem to be selling anything, there must be something off about him and his intentions. He caught her looking at him and grinned. She smiled shyly back, selecting to play the 'innocent-young-Castle-maid' card. It worked.

"You know," he said, leaning towards her, "I've been around quite a bit of the world, I've got plenty of stories to tell, if you'd like to hear some."

"Did you make up rhymes about them too?" she asked, smiling as though she meant it.

"Oh, some. Perhaps I could entertain all you fine folks later this evening with some of them. They're great crowd-pleasers." He winked at her, and she had to remind herself not to get drawn in by his honest looks.

As they worked, Jill noticed him studying the workings of the kitchen carefully, getting a feel for who was important and who was not. _"A thief, perhaps? Or someone looking to get a high-ranking job fast?"_ She frowned down at the huge apple tart. Twenty more to go, and she was stuck next to a man whose sense of self-importance would need constant grooming if she were to get into his confidence and find out what he was up to.

It was going to be a long morning.

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A/N – And slooooowly we get to a plot...Yes, Jack is the sort of person who Perambulates...that means 'walks', to you and me..-g-

So, be honest, what do you think of our dear master Jack?

For those who wish to know, the giant/human scale is a bit like the BBC 's 'The Silver Chair' Giants, or to the giants the average human is equivalent to the height of a large cat...So just picture yourself walking around with a bunch of people as tall as your cat, and you've got the Giant's scale. (Yeah, okay, I'm short. Our biggest cat comes almost to my knee when he sits down. But in my defense, he is a very large cat.)

Also in case anyone wishes to know, the way to tell a maid from an undermaid (the muscles and posher clothes) and the fact that privy workers were paid the most but died off the fastest (both of these in the introduction) are actually true... although the maids detail was from Victorian times, not the middle-ages...


	4. Chapter Three: Party

Chapter Three, Party

A small squash flew through the air, nearly colliding with Jill's head. Small, of course, is relative, since it was about the same size as Jill's head to begin with. (Even the vegetables were bigger in Giant country). Jill merely ducked and continued her work, the occasional flying object was simply another oddity in her already strange day. Cook's reaction to this transgression, however, was ominous silence. The entire kitchen fell quiet as everyone avoided looking toward Cook and the squash-tosser. Cook grabbed the boy by the collar, nearly lifting him off his feet.

"What," he asked softly, "do you think you were doing?"

There was a mass gulp from the bystanders, who went wordlessly about their work, so as to avoid Cook's attention.

"Ahba-adda-I, uh..."

"I asked you to bring up the squash. I did not ask you to throw the squash across the room."

It was only the well-timed interruption by Baron Michaelwhite Despora that saved the unwise lad's life and limbs. "My good Cook, I trust we may enter your kitchens?" The good-natured voice of the Baron rang through the stone halls and roiled off the pots hanging from the walls.

It was no wonder he sounded so happy, Jill noted; the Lady Applegate was on his arm, looking delighted and her chaperone was behind them, looking put out.

Cook set the lad down, with a look that clearly meant _I'll deal with you later_, and turned to the Baron. "My Lord, you and your guests are always welcome. Please, allow me to show yourself and the Ladies around."

The Baron of course had been in the kitchens many times, and technically owned them, but he was very fond of Cook and had awarded him the kitchens as his own. Cook led Baron Despora and his guests around the kitchens, showing them how the large bread ovens worked and giving them a taste of the stew he was cooking for supper. Lady Applegate's chaperone (a dowager aunt, Jill had heard) followed them closely, searching for a chance to tut disapprovingly.

Jack, with whom Jill was having no further luck, chuckled beside her. "Well, that's the giant, eh?"

Jill, suppressing the desire to tread on his foot, smiled instead. "Oh yes," she whispered, "he's ever so clever, manages everything here."

"Indeed?" Jack stroked his chin thoughtfully. He leaned against the counter, shoving aside the huge pile of turnips. Mid-afternoon was always full of vegetable chopping, and once Jill had finished the tarts, she had been swooped off to the next counter, Jack in tow. "So, he's a mighty friendly fellow then? Doesn't mind a guest or two?"

"No," Jill said slowly, wondering what he was getting at. "I suppose he doesn't."

Lady Applegate's voice carried through the air, beautiful and mellow. "Was it you, good sir, who made those delicious tarts we ate earlier today?"

Cook bowed in a most gentlemanly fashion to the elegant Lady. "No Madame, it was not me. This young woman here is the culprit, and makes the finest tarts I've ever seen." He gestured Jill forward.

Jill moved beside him and curtsied deeply, then smiled up at the Lady.

"They were wonderful, my dear. And from so young a cook! I might have to steal you away for _my_ kitchens!"

Jill grinned up at her and curtsied again. "Thank you very much, my Lady. I'm glad you enjoyed them."

Brunia of Applegate nodded her acknowledgment. She had a dimple on her cheek when she smiled up at the Baron, and Jill couldn't see what Tom West had been talking about. The Lady was quite beautiful, dressed in a fine red gown with gold ornaments in her hair.

Jill felt Cook's hand on her shoulder as the Lady's gaze turned elsewhere.

"Well done," he murmured as she turned to look at him. He looked very pleased, and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze.

Jill smiled her thanks and returned to her pile of turnips.

Jack grinned at her in a dashing sort of way, causing her heart to flip-flop in spite of her good senses. "Well done, Jill. Well done. I predict you'll be rising fast in the kitchen now."

She just sighed and shrugged. "I'm happy where I am," she said in her best I-am-a-meek-girl-who-is-no-threat-whatsoever voice.

Jack beamed. "Then I'm glad I came here and met you, Jill," he murmured under the noise of the working staff.

Jill smiled at him, fluttering her eyelashes becomingly. She'd never understood why people found that attractive, but it worked on Jack, who smiled back in a manly way.

There was a stifled cough from behind them and they turned to see Cook watching with raised eyebrows.

Quite suddenly, turnips were being peeled by two very attentive workers who were focused entirely on their task. Even Jack knew better than to risk Cook's wrath. At the Baron's bidding, Cook followed the three Giants outside, where their voices could be heard but indistinctly.

A bowl was set down firmly on the counter across from Jill, who looked up, startled. Sylvia grinned at her, and Bela, holding an armful of early greens, winked.

"Ah, our girl 'as got noticed!" giggled Sylvia.

Bela smiled, her long fingers already sorting through the pile of greenery. "Looks as though you 'ave, Jill."

Jill grinned. "Oh, don't be silly. 's not my recipe, anyhow, Cook told me what to put in."

Sylvia was paying her no mind, however, because she had just noticed Jack, who winked and gave her a devil-may-care grin. She giggled again, blushing.

"Lovely ladies, allow me to introduce myself. I am Jack O' Field, most pleased to meet you." He bowed slightly, hampered by the counter full of turnips in front of him.

Bela frowned slightly, exchanging looks with Jill, who rolled her eyes. "This is Bela, Jack, and this is Sylvia. Tell me Sylvia, when are you goin' maying with Ben Brewer?"

"Oh," said Sylvia, speaking as though she'd been brought back to earth with a thud. "Oh, yes. Sun's day." She smiled dreamily and stared off into the distance, as she always did when thinking of Ben.

Bela nodded politely at Jack, then watched her work determinedly. She knew a fop when she saw one.

Jack nonetheless was not bothered by this in the least. He continued chatting away at Jill, flirting with her every time he caught her eye.

Cook entered the kitchen stealthily, so as to catch any miscreants in the act. Satisfied that everything was going the way it should, he made the entire kitchen jump with his roar. "I'll be wanting your attention now!" Once everyone's hearts had calmed, he continued. "The Baron has told me he'll be having a celebration on May's 29th day, to which there will be invited thirteen Giants, all Lords and Ladies of the finest quality. Of course, this requires food to match. I will expect no less than perfection from each of you." With a satisfied nod, he strolled over to the main fireplace to supervise the stew.

There was a mass sigh of resignation, then everyone set their shoulders and got to work.

Jack looked around cheerfully. "He's given you almost a month to prepare, shouldn't that be plenty of time?" He looked taken aback when he was met with three exasperated glares.

"Never fed a Giant afore, eh?" scoffed Sylvia.

Bela smiled wryly. "There's no' enough time in th' world t' 'prepare' a Giant feast."

While the others were explaining in great detail all of the work put into a feast for thirteen Giants, Jill mused over Jack's phrasing. 'Given _you_ a month to prepare'... which meant either he _wasn't _looking for fast employment, or he wasn't thinking when he spoke. If he didn't misspeak, Jill was willing to bet a tart to a squash that he was a thief. Which meant big trouble.

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A/N-- Woot! Longest chapter yet! -dances- sorry this one took so long, for some reason it was the hardest to write so far...

Tell me whatcha think! (yes, even you, lelathesa!) --cookies--

And thank you to all my other lovely reviewers; Scoutcraft Piratess, The-Masked-Lady, animefan1989, clar-the-pirate, Oo.dream.on.girl.oO, and shattered rainbow...Woot!

Allyp


	5. Chapter Four: Charlie

Disclaimer: Oh, wait, there is no disclaimer! I created these characters, they are mine, all mine, MWAHAHAHA!!!

(coughs)...See, that's what happens when you write too much Star Trek parody.

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Chapter Four, Charlie

Cook had decided that to go with the stew, he was going to serve loaves of soft-bread, as well as the already planned side dishes. This resulted in the bakers running about, trying to mix more bread dough without getting in the way of all the other kitchen workers, who were busy enough in their own right. Jill was back with Bela at a huge bowl, kneading bread dough.

"This is going to be rather flat bread, if he's planning on baking it tonight," Jill muttered, slightly annoyed. Cook's altering of the meals had separated her from Jack, which meant that although she didn't have to listen to his constant attempts at conversation, she couldn't find out any more of what he was up to.

"I don' think he's goin' t', I think these're for tomorrow's bread, as Cook's using tomorrow's for today," Bela replied, watching Jack across the kitchen as she kneaded.

Jill glanced over her shoulder at him. "He still flirting his eyes out?"

"Oh yes."

"Good. Keeps him out of trouble," Jill said firmly, frowning down at her dough.

"Y' think he's up t' no good?" Bela asked, eyebrow raised.

Jill nodded, thinking.

"He jus' seemed foppish t' me. Not the kind of trouble y're thinkin' though, is it?"

"No, not your ordinary, gets all the girls in 'trouble' kind of fop. More like the steals you blind sort. Though I'm sure there'll be plenty of the first, if he's around long enough."

Bela laughed. "You sure you aren't–"

"Mountebanks!"

Jill dropped her bread onto the counter and turned to see Cook waving a basket at her.

"Eggs! Now!"

Jill saw a sniffling young man sprawled out on the floor, the remains of a bowl of eggs splatted all over his head and shoulders. "Yessir," she answered, running to collect the basket. You didn't argue with Cook when he was in a foul mood. Cook passed her the basket, then turned to glower at the man on the floor, whom Jill now realized was Terrence under all the yolk.

She ran out of the kitchens, reaching the door in time to hear Cook start roaring again. With a quick wink at Jack, she closed the door behind her and sighed in relief. Trotting down the corridors, she headed the long way in the direction of the chicken coops, hoping she wouldn't run into anyone she knew. She was more in the mood for thinking rather than talking just now. She had just passed the storeroom by the knight's garrison, her footsteps echoing lightly along the hall, when a young knight leaped out in front of her. They both jumped, and Jill nearly dropped her basket. "Pardon me!" she said somewhat indignantly. She knew she had seen him somewhere before, but that was no reason for him to jump out at her in such a way.

"Oh," the knight said, looking flustered. "I, I do beg your pardon, good miss."

Jill crossed her arms. "Not whom you were expecting?"

"I, uh, I'm sorry, I didn't intend to startle you."

Jill saw the flowers he was trying to hide behind his back trembling a little with his nerves. "You wouldn't happen to be waiting for Isla now, would you?" she asked, trying not to smile.

The young man's tan face went a shade pinker. "Er..."

"I thought as much. It just happens that I room with her, and I know for a fact that while she loves lilacs, she's not fond of irises."

The knight brought his flowers out, looking with interest at the bouquet. "Really?"

"Really. And what you might do is let your hair hang just a bit in your eyes, so she can brush it back for you. She likes that." Jill tried not to laugh at the surprise on his face.

"Er," he said, startled, "thank you! Would, uh, would you like these?" He pulled the irises from amidst the lilacs and daisies and held them out.

"Oh, thank you," she said, surprised in turn. She placed the flowers in her basket and smiled up at him. "I ought to go now, good luck!" She rushed along the hall, glancing back when she reached the corner. The young knight was ruffling his light hair, trying to arrange it so some hung in his eyes. Stifling her laughter, she ran the rest of the way to the coops. "Hullo Charlie," she called to the Birdmaster. He nodded to her, holding a large goose in his arms.

"Jill, good ta see yeh. After eggs, then?"

"Yes. Terrence fell, and dropped all the ones we had."

He chuckled. "Jus' don' take th' ones from th' top, there." He nodded at the top row of shelves strewn with grass nests. A dozen chickens brooded there, waiting for their charges to hatch.

Jill smiled wryly. The Giant's chickens were huge, and laid eggs nearly the size of her palm. She had no intention of getting between one of them and their chicks-to-be. "Is there something wrong with the goose?" she asked as she searched for eggs in non-inhabited nests.

"Ah, she's young, don't quite wan' ta lay yet. I'm tryin' ta tell 'er she's nought to worry, but she won' listen." He looked in fond exasperation at the goose, who gazed adoringly back at him.

Jill chuckled. "Is she one of the goldens, then?"

"That she is. Yeh ever see one o' their eggs, Jill?"

Jill shook her head, trying to find the best way to approach a particularly temperamental-looking hen, who was glaring beadily at her.

"'Ere now!" Charlie said sharply, "let 'er get at those eggs, will ye?"

The hen huffed at him, then stood with all the dignity she could muster and toddled to the next nest. Jill grinned at the Birdmaster. "Thanks, Charlie. They always make me nervous when they glare like that."

The man winked at her. "We've got ta save those pretty hands of yer's from gettin' pecked, af'r all. Would ye like ta see a goose egg?"

"Can I really? I didn't think you were s'posed to show anyone."

"Ah, I trust ye, Jill. C'mere." He led her to a small room off of the main coop, guarded by a large black and brown dog, who growled at Jill. "Down, Brutus, she's alrigh'." The dog lay down again, but watched Jill closely. A few geese were nesting on large piles of grass and leaves, like the hens. These birds, however, came up past Jill's waist, and eyed her just as fiercely as Brutus had.

"'Ere, look't this," Charlie said proudly. He cradled a colossal egg in his hands, and Jill came closer to look. The egg was easily twice the size of a normal goose's, perhaps more. It shone gold in the light from the sun, looking like a sunset captured and set in the mortal world.

Jill leaned close, and saw her reflection on the smooth surface. "Amazing," she breathed in awe. "Is it solid gold?"

Charlie laughed. "No, how d'yeh think we'd get th' goslings, if'n this were solid gold?"

Jill felt her face flush. "Oh, yes."

Charlie smiled kindly at her. "I don' blame yeh. I could'n' believe it meself, firs' I saw one. I 'aven't shown nought but yeh an' me daugh'er. She'll be th' one carin' fer me birds when I'm gone. I've been 'ere near forty year, now." He nodded proudly, and Jill saw that his hair was almost the same shade of white as his beloved geese. "This un's mine, I named 'er Penny. Short fer Penelope, y'see. Th' Baron gave me a' egg, said tha' I've been 'ere thir'y years, I ought ta have one of me own." He laid the egg back gently under Penny, who honked softly at him. "Would yeh like ta feed her?"Charlie asked with a grin. Penelope turned her gaze to Jill and the girl could almost see the goose contemplating this idea.

"Oh, I'd love to Charlie, but I need to go back. Cook doesn't like to go long without eggs."

The man laughed and escorted her out, with another gentle chide at Brutus' growling.

Jill curtsied to the Birdmaster at the door, grinning when he laughed again. "Good day, Charlie."

"Good day, Jill. Take care now, an' don't let Cook snap at yeh fer lingerin', tell him I held yeh up."

Jill chuckled in reply as she continued back to the kitchens.

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A/N – Yes, we have chickens. It is my firm belief that chickens have an Evil plot to take over the world. 'Cause they're just that way. Current music, Depeche Mode's 'People are People'. This chapter is more than twice as long as my first, and almost a hundred words longer than chapter three. Ha! I like Charlie, and don't worry, we'll be seeing plenty more of him later on...And a whole chapter without Jack talking! It would have been a relief, but I had to write our dear Birdmaster, which although his speech is a lot simpler, his accent is rather more 'common' and thus harder to write. (My spell checker must absolutely hate me by now.)

Please Review? You'll get a chocolate mint-chocolate-chip cookie! (my brother made them, and they are soooo good!)

--Allyp

p.s. Thanks to clar-the-pirate, the idea of being 'delighted upon' (complete with elephants, gazelles and whatever else strikes her strange, hobbity mind) still makes me laugh...


	6. Chapter Five: Isla

A/N--Six month pause? What six month pause? ...Yeah. Sorry about that, folks, but thanks so much to those who've stuck with me. Enjoy, and please review!

This chapter is dedicated to **lelathesa**, whose reviews are always short and to the point. :D

Disclaimer--- I have nothing to disclaim, they are mine, all mine!! Well, I didn't make up the Jack and the Beanstalk story, credit for that goes to someone from somewhere (England? Europe?) a couple hundred years ago.

**Chapter Five, Isla**

"And where are you off to?" Isla, Jill's roommate and best friend, dashed up to her.

"Eggs to the kitchen," Jill said, hefting the basket. "Terrence dropped the last batch."

"I know, poor thing. He's out in the stream, trying to get egg out of his hair." Isla beamed and hooked her arm through Jill's, falling into step beside her.

"I saw your latest knight," Jill said, winking at her. "Or rather, he jumped out at me, and then positively fell over himself in embarrassment when he found out it wasn't you."

Isla giggled. Today her long brown braid was tucked under a neat cap and her many petticoats rustled as she walked. Her dreamy smile seemed to light the corridor. "Yes, he's a sweet one. Where is he hiding, then?"

"East hall, just past the store room. You ought to go from the North corridor, or thereabouts, so's he can jump out at you from the right direction."

Isla giggled again. "I'll keep that in mind. How has your day been?" They turned the corner and continued past the long tapestries, Isla nodding a greeting to another maid as they went by.

Jill gave a long sigh.

"Oh no! Arden didn't knock over another vinegar cask, did he?"

Jill rolled her eyes. "Not yet, but it would suit the sort of day it's been. There is a charming, polite, very attractive, and charming young man who conveniently appeared in the kitchens today."

"You've said charming twice."

"He is exceedingly charming."

"Oh Jill," Isla shook her head in mock despair. "Not everyone who is charming is some brigand on the run."

"Perhaps not," Jill said, halting at an archway. "Here is the path, your gentle knight awaits." She grinned at her friend. "I'll tell you more tonight. If I don't get back soon, Cook's likely to serve Roast Jillia for supper."

With a wave and a sympathetic grin, Isla disappeared down the East Hall.

Jill dodged several men wrestling a trestle table down to the dining hall and ran as fast as she could to the kitchens without jouncing the eggs.

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When she got back to the kitchen, most of the occupants had ceased their grumbling about the Ball and were now onto another subject. Not because they were any happier about it, but because over the years they had reluctantly learned to accept the inevitable. Like the fact that there were always dishes to wash, potatoes that needed peeling, and a Giant's feast to serve. That, and the fact that Arden had knocked over another vinegar cask.

Jill's basket was taken from her by a harried-looking undercook so quickly that she barely managed to snatch the irises from it before it was borne away. She squeezed through and around the busy crowds until she reached Bela, standing at a counter. Her friend was humming quietly to herself, ignoring all the fuss running rampant in the room. Jill sighed and set the flowers on the counter before rolling up her sleeves and setting to work.

Bela nodded at the younger girl as she scooped out a double handful of white marzipan from the wide bowl. "It's swans we're making. Specific request from the Baron, seems his lovely Lady reminds him of a swan." She threw a grin over at Jill. "I see you've snuck off t' see a lover while the rest of us 're slaving away."

"Wha? Oh, the flowers! No, I came across Isla's latest suitor and told him she wasn't fond of irises, so he gave them to me."

Bela chuckled. "Oh, I'm sure that's what happened." She nodded, grinning.

Jill rolled her eyes and dug out a handful of marzipan for herself. "Did Arden truly knock over _another_ cask?"

Bela nodded again. "Cook looked fit t' burst, an' no wonder. That's the second cask in a month. Grabbed the poor lad by the collar an' gave 'im a good shake. Said he'd make 'im into a quintain for the knights to practice jousting on." She set her swan next to the others to harden. "Poor fool."

"Did you see where Jack's got to?"

"Oh, he's over with Sylvia, gutting the fish. Probably getting scales all over his fancy clothes." She grinned wickedly and jerked her head at the opposite side of the room.

Jill turned to look, but couldn't see them past the masses of people.

"I think he fancies you, Jill, he asked me twice how long it'd be afore you got back." Bela glanced over her shoulder. "Ooh, here he comes now.!"

Jill braced herself and turned to look.

Jack, the long feather in his cap waving jauntily, grinned as he came up to them. "Jill, my fair lady." He doffed his cap to her and was promptly knocked into from behind. He jumped out of the way as three girls struggling with a giant's teacup went by, heading in the general direction of Cook. He replaced his hat and grinned sheepishly at Jill, sidling over to the counter next to her and leaning an elbow on it. "I've been thinking, lovely Jill."

After a pause Jill realized he wanted a reply to this, so she smiled and nodded. "Go on."

"Well, I've never seen a Giant party before, you see. And by the luckiest of coincidences, your indomitable Head of the Kitchens just happens to need extra help until then. So, it occurred to me, Jill, that it would be lovely to stay here for a while and perhaps...get to know everyone, while I am waiting to see this elaborate, sensational spectacle of a spectacular. By all accounts a beauteous banquet of the finest type."

It took Jill a moment to translate this, even though she has suspected it was coming. She decided that he would make mischief whether she told him what she really thought of him or not, so she might as well be in his good graces and find out what he was planning. "Oh," she said, putting on a delighted smile. "That would be lovely, Jack! I know you'll enjoy the party!"

Beside her, Bela was taken by a sudden coughing fit and had to turn away, hiding her face.

Jack bowed and looked around at the busy kitchen. "I'm glad you agree, Jill. I get the feeling I'm going to have a wonderful time here."

Jill winced, quite certain that was far more ominous than it was meant to sound.

Jack turned back to her and watched her place a carefully made swan next to Bela's. "Fascinating stuff." He leaned over to peer into the bowl. "Might I try a taste?"

Bela, who had recovered from her 'coughing fit', shook her head. "None, if you please. Cook's very strict about that sort of thing, especially the fancy desserts."

"Ahh, pity." He idly brushed a fish scale from his tunic. "Could either of you knowledgeable lovelies tell me why there is such a fuss about a vinegar cask? I understand that some fellow has knocked one over, but, correct me if I am mistaken, aren't casks usually sealed, hence being a _cask?_"

Jill shook her head and affixed a beak to her swan's face. "They _are_ sealed, but that isn't the trouble. Vinegar needs to sit, untouched, for several months before it can be used. If it is disturbed, that ruins the whole batch, and you have to start over again."

Bela shook her head. "Such a waste."

"I see." Jack nodded knowingly. "What do you suppose will happen to the boy?"

"Cook's threatened to make him a quintain," Jill said, adjusting a wing.

"Of course. Poor fellow, wouldn't like to be in his shoes. I suppose Cook isn't the sort who deals gently with troublemakers."

Bela and Jill exchanged a look as Jack examined Jill's swan. "No, he isn't," Jill agreed.

"And neither is the Baron," Bela added firmly. "It's best for _all_ strangers t' know that."

"Quite, quite," Jack agreed, but Jill thought he was paying more attention to the candy swan than Bela. "I say, do you just leave these white? All the swans I've seen have yellow beaks."

"We paint the color on, when they've dried." Jill pulled the swan out from under Jack's gaze and set it in line next to the others.

Jack looked delighted. "And how do you do that?"

Bela rolled her eyes. "It's a secret."

"I see," Jack said again. "Secret of the trade, don't want it leaking out. Well, my lips are sealed, not a word will I breathe about your beautiful swans." He winked and stood, straightening his tunic. "Unless you lovely artisans have any work for me, I'm off to speak to Cook. He's bound to want something done." When neither girl replied, he smiled dashingly and strode off, whistling, toward the roaring form of Cook.

Jill turned to look at Bela. "He's going to be trouble."

She nodded, staring out into the crowd after him. "Yes, he is."

A/N – Did you know that vinegar is made from wheat, unless it is cider vinegar, in which case it is made from apples? For instance, when Cook shouts out for apples to be peeled for the tarts in chapter one, he tells Finn to put the peels and cores in the vinegar cask. When it was full, they would cover it and let it sit. After a while, it would be vinegar!


	7. Chapter Six: View

Chapter Six, View

Jill took a deep breath. The air was fresh, sweet-smelling after being cooped up in the castle all day. Of course, her lower half was technically still inside the castle, but her upper half, leaning out the window, was happy. Her toes just brushed the stone floor inside and a warm breeze wrapped itself around her shoulders and curled in her hair. The view from the upper floors of the castle was spectacular. The golden sun was curving down towards the horizon, catching the scenery at a new angle. The forest going off into the distance was dark, save for the tips of the trees, which glowed green in the light. The hills almost rolled across the land like waves in the water, only halting when they broke against the wide, peaked mountains in the distance.

Jill sighed in satisfaction. If only all days could be like this. The sweet voice of Lady Brunia Applegate drifted through the hallway. As the rippling of a harp joined the Lady's song, Jill wondered idly if that was what stars sounded like. Outside, the greens of spring were now fully present, from the bright new grass to the near-black of the forest pines. Pale flowers lay across the landscape, patches of white, blue and yellow roiling like sea foam over the tops of the hills. She leaned a little farther out the window, her arms starting to ache from the hard stone. The first warm breeze of the year was something she looked forward to all winter; and she certainly wasn't going to miss a bit of it today.

"Jill!"

Hands grabbed her waist and jerked her off the windowsill, her feet landing on the floor with a thump. She stumbled backward into a pair of arms and looked up at Grett's white face. She pushed away from him and glared, blushing furiously. "_What_ on _earth_ was that for?"

He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

Jill sighed, exasperated. She straightened her apron and dusted off her sleeves. "Have you no explanation for yourself?"

"I–it looked like you were falling, Jill."

"I was just looking out the window, Grett, I think I can manage not to fall out of it on my own, thank you!" she was still blushing, though she was not entirely sure why.

Grett flushed and looked down at the floor. "I'm sorry, Jill."

Jill looked at him and bit back another sigh. "It's all right, Grett. It was sweet of you to watch out for me." She smiled encouragingly. "I'm sorry I was cross, it was silly of me."

"It won't happen again, Jill, I promise."

Grett looked so sheepish that Jill had to stifle a laugh. "Don't worry about it. If you think I'm falling out again please do pull me back; I'd hate to end up as a splat because you were being polite."

Grett gave her a half smile and bowed, then continued down the hall, his face still pink. Jill watched him go, fiddling absently with her apron until he turned the corner and was out of sight. She looked down and saw she had wrapped the corner of her apron around her fingers, crumpling it. She made a noise of frustration and let go, smoothing out the wrinkles as best she could. Sighing, she headed back to the kitchens. Which, of course, were in the direction that Grett had just taken. Jill rolled her eyes at herself and trotted to catch up.

Grett stopped and turned when he heard her footsteps, then waited for her to reach him.

"I'm goin' back down," she said sheepishly by way of explanation.

He smiled and they continued walking, side by side.

"I thought it was you playing," she said as the harp grew louder. "'S why I was so surprised to see you."

"You thought _that_ was me?" He gestured down the hall where the beautiful song was coming from, looking pleased.

"Yes!" she grinned, "everyone knows you're the best musician in the castle _and_ the Baron's favorite. I s'pose the Lady brought someone with her, and that's why it's not you?"

"No." He couldn't seem to help grinning, "that's the Baron's magic harp. It's one his grandfather got from somewhere, an' I've heard it plays like a dream, y' only have to think the music, and it plays." He sighed longingly. "I'd love to play it, just once. The Baron doesn't let anyone else touch it though, because it's the only one in the world, or so I've heard."

"A magic harp? You mean the one that sits up on the shelf by the ceiling in the great hall? All gold-plated and all that?"

"'S not gold-plated, it's real gold. He keeps it up on the high shelf so no one else can reach it. I think the strings are made of silver and diamonds," he shook his head. "I don't know what else could sound so sweet."

"If it's a real magic harp, it won't be silver, it'd be unicorn hair," said Jill without thinking. "My parents had one, and–" she stopped suddenly, realizing what she'd just said.

Grett stared at her. "You _what_? Your parents had a _magic harp_?"

She closed her eyes and pressed her fingers against her mouth, wishing she could take back what she'd just said. The music from the great hall ended, and there was a moment's silence before applause echoed down the halls. Jill could hear Baron Despora praising Lady Applegate's voice and the Lady in turn complimenting the Baron's playing. She stood in silence, feeling Grett watching her and trying to think of something to say. Finally, she chose the easiest answer. "I–I haven't _always_ been a kitchen girl, Grett."

There was another long moment of silence between them, before she heard Grett shift. "So, unicorn hair, then?" he said. His voice was overly casual but when she looked up, his eyes were concerned.

She smiled at him, glad that he didn't mention how her eyes were just a bit too bright. "Yes. I'd imagine that's what the stories say, anyhow."

"Of course." He smiled back. "You know how stories are, though. They might try to say the strings would be _troll_ hair and I can't think of anything less sweet than that."

She giggled and they started walking again, Grett carefully not noticing when she wiped her eyes furtively with a sleeve edge.

"So," he said, in an effort to keep the conversation light, "what were you doing upstairs this time a' day?"

"Ah, I had to bring up the irises. One of the undercooks thought they were for some cake and started dipping them in honey," she grinned. "Cook told me to get them out of the kitchen, afore they spoiled the colors he has goin' for tonight."

Grett snorted. "That sounds like him. I suppose he's doing Lady Brunia's colors?"

"White and gold, yes. Purple would have looked nice with that, I thought. But, I didn't really want anyone eating my flowers."

He looked down at her from the corner of his eye. "Ye ought to've put one in your hair, Jill. You're white and gold, after all." He blushed and grinned self-consciously.

She laughed. "That's sweet, Grett. I suppose I ought to take care not to be served for supper tonight then."

"Where did you find the irises?" he asked, still red.

"Oh, some knight who fancies Isla. He had some flowers for her, but she isn't fond of irises. So he gave them to me," she thought a moment. "It's rather an odd way to get flowers, but it was very amusing."

"You brought up the irises so you could throw them out the upstairs window where you nearly fell out, is that it?"

"Certainly not! I just couldn't resist the view, is all."

They came to the side entrance of the great hall and Grett stopped. "Here is where I must leave you. Have a good evening, Jill." He bowed politely.

She curtsied back and smiled. "Have a good evening, Grett. I'll see you tomorrow." Jill continued on alone until she came to the kitchen door. With a steadying breath, she entered.

Almost immediately Jack bounded up to her. "Jill! My lovely master cook, I have excellent news." He beamed at her and grasped her hand to guide her to a counter. "Your dear master of the kitchens has given me a position until the feast! I will earn room and board for only the price of my labors and time spent with you. I shall have to make up a new rhyme to celebrate the occasion."

Jill had to force herself to play her role. "Why Jack, how lovely! I know you'll love the feast, and working in the kitchens is ever so delightful." She gave him the best smile she could manage.

"I'm glad we get along so well together, Jill," he said, giving her his most dashing smile.

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That night Isla climbed under the covers and tucked them carefully around herself to protect from the chilly May breeze. Then, with a movement not unlike a cat pouncing, she turned to Jill. "_So_...tell me more of this Jack fellow who has you all in a fluster." She smirked at her friend wickedly.

"He does _not_ have me 'all in a fluster'," Jill grumbled. "He is very irritating, and I think he is planning to steal something. Or he was, before he heard about the feast."

"Oh? And now that he's heard about the Party what's he planning, eh?" She giggled and nudged Jill. "Is he a goin' to 'pillage your castle'?"

Jill groaned. Everything is 'pillaging castles' with you, isn't it?" She rolled over reluctantly to face her giggling friend. "Pah. He's a thief, clear and plain, but I'm worried."

Isla calmed herself and grinned. "What's t' worry about, then? Won't Cook have him tossed on his rear in the moat soon as he looks at the silver the wrong way?"

"It's not that exactly," Jill said. She traced a line on the blanket with a fingertip, trying to sort out her thoughts. "When he heard about the Feast...he seemed pleased. If he were just after the silver, he'd just be in an' out as fast as he can, but this..." She yawned in spite of herself. "I can't think a straight line just now what with all the extra work today, but I know he's up to no good, somethin' much worse than stealing the silver."

Isla sighed and shook her head at Jill. "You, my dear, see thieves and plots everywhere. Sometimes I wonder about your upbringing." She squawked as Jill's pillow hit her head and gave her a playful shove in retaliation. "Just go t' sleep, it'll all look rosier in the morning." That being her final word on the subject, she blew out the candle and settled in under the covers.

Jill yawned again. "If you say so, Isla. I hope you're right."

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A/N Ooh, look, a plot! Amazing. And we're only on chapter six! (Sure, there's plot! Well, if you squint...)

Hokay now, you fans of fairy tales, who can spot which Jack and the Beanstalk items have been shown, and which one is missing? My mum said "Is there anything cuter than a boy giving you a compliment, then blushing and grinning? It's so sweet."

Again, sorry about the wait, but I have a week until my next writer's group meeting, so maybe I can pump out another chapter before then. t.t.f.n!

Allyp


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